


The Ghost King

by TalysAlankil



Series: Tales from the Kingdom of Hades [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Frozen (2013), M/M, Snow Queen AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalysAlankil/pseuds/TalysAlankil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico, the Prince of Hades, has grown up secluded, after a dramatic incident involving his sister and his dark powers. On the day of his coronation, however, he is forced to face the world and risk losing control once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the weeklypjoprompts tumblr and [their "Fairy Tale" prompt](http://weeklypjoprompts.tumblr.com/post/112269129187/prompt-6-fairy-tales). This was meant to be a Snow Queen AU, but I couldn't stick to it, so it's hybrid Snow Queen/Frozen/original stuff.
> 
> Also, it's probably going to be a threesome because I couldn't decide between fairytale prince Jason and warm and sunny Will as a foil to dark Nico.

"As he holds the sacred icons, and is crowned in this holy place, I present to you, king Nico of Hades."

Nico could felt sweat trickle down his back as the crowd cheered for him, calling his name over and over. Sealing his fate, nailing it down even more solidly with every voice gathered in the temple.

He turned back to the priest, who took the icons—the scepter and helmet, symbols of the kingdom of Hades—from Nico's hands, and placed the kingdom's crown, silver and gold woven together and embedded with obsidian stones, over Nico's dark locks. The final gesture, the final nail in his coffin.

And yet, Nico couldn't help but sigh in relief. The ceremony was almost over, and no one had noticed the flames on the candelabras around him, slowly flickering out, one by one. Nico had felt like someone would notice him glancing, watching at the shadows creeping ever closer to him.

One more excruciating minute of empty formulas, and it was over. The crowd—mostly nobility, from Hades and abroad—left the temple through the main entrance, but Nico slipped through a door to the side, weaving his way through the hallways into his personal quarters. There would be a feast, and a ball, of course, and Nico wanted every minute of calm and solitude he could get before he had to show up and endure the night.

A whole night. The thought made him dizzy, and he had to pause, on the edge of the inner gardens, leaning against a pillar to catch his breath. A vain effort—already shadows were creeping in, and the herb was slowly turning brown, then grey, then to dust, in an arc expending from him.

"Your Majesty!" a voice called out, sounding vaguely familiar to Nico's ears. "Nico? I saw you leave this way. Where are you?"

 _Go away_. He had no idea who was looking for him—who could possibly be talking to him with such familiarity? The only answer that came to mind was not a pleasant one. Everyone who knew him as 'Nico' was dead, and most of them would probably haunt him now, on the day he was unjustly crowned.

The boy who walked past him, however, was flesh and blood. He was tall, much taller than Nico was, but he had a youthful face—he couldn't be any older than Nico, who had just turned twenty-one, of age to be crowned—with bright blue eyes and golden hair. His white uniform marked him as a court physician in training, but Nico didn't know him, of course: the court of Hades hadn't lived in the palace since Nico's sister had died.

He froze when he spotted Nico, still leaning against the wall, and Nico stared right back at him. He wished he could at least have control over his face, because he had no idea what the boy was seeing right now, and that thought was making him uncomfortable.

"Nico?" The inflection, once again, was familiar, as was the boy's raised eyebrow. His tentative smile wasn't—it was barely a smile at all, hesitant and shy.

But Nico recognized it anyway, and it was as though his heart was painfully squeezed by ghostly hands when he did. Thirteen years had done nothing to suppress the memory, it would appear. "Will?"

Will's smile solidified. His eyes briefly fluttered to Nico's face, and Nico could guess what he saw—the dark circles under Nico's eyes, his hollow jaws, and all the other traces of thirteen sleepless years. But then his gaze kept moving, studying Nico's outfit, his hair, his eyes. "You look good."

"You look better." The answer hadn't even come because of years of having politeness drilled into Nico's head. Will's skin sported a healthy tan, and his uniform was taut over lean muscles—nothing to rival a soldier's, but more than enough. Will had always been handsome, and he hadn't had to deal with years of sorrow and loneliness. "So you're a court physician, huh?"

Will grimaced. "In training. Whereas _you're_ actually king now."

Nico couldn't help but smile—but it quickly faded, as he remembered everything that came with the coronation. The circumstances that had led to it, and the feast that awaited him. "Yes, I guess I am."

"It's been so long. What—" Will's voice died, and uncomfortable silence filled the air between them, and Nico had no idea what to say. Will had to have noticed Bianca's death was tied to the court being driven out of the royal palace. Everyone had. But explaining _why_ …that was a lot more complicated. Of course, Will had known once, before Nico's parents had forced him to drink from the water of the Lethe. Just a sip, not enough to lose his whole identity, just so that he'd forget one particular night.

So he did what he always did—he deflected. He pushed himself away from the pillar, straightened his jacket, trying to get a hold of himself. "I should go." He hated how Will's eyes lowered—in disappointment or deference, Nico wasn't sure—but he continued. "I have to be ready for the feast, later."

"Of course. My apologies." A pause. "Your Majesty. Perhaps I will see you then?"

Nico hadn't considered that Will was invited, but of course he'd be. Why else would he be in the palace, in his uniform? "Perhaps." _I hope so. But it'd be best if you don't._

Will bowed. It was a strange sight: Will had never shown deference to Nico, even when he was the crown prince and Will was only some courtesan's child. Then he left—more rigidly than he'd arrived, Nico noticed.

Nico glanced at the garden to his side. No more grass had died during his conversation with Will.

He took a deep breath. Maybe he could get through the night.

* * *

Only when he was standing on a dais in the palace's great hall did Nico realize he had never _been_ to a ball in his life. He could dance, of course: he'd had tutors, though in recent years they'd been part of the small staff that still inhabited the palace. But he'd never had to. This was his first dance, and that would have made anyone nervous—and today, on his coronation day, all eyes were on him.

The feast itself was mercifully short, by Nico's own instructions, and Nico himself had shown up when it was almost over already. He couldn't have eaten anyway. And now, there he was, standing on an emptied dais as couples began to form on the floor in front of him.

He shouldn't have worried about dancing, though: even as dancers started to twirl around the great hall, a couple walked up to the dais, with a young woman in tow.

Next to Nico, a herald announced. "Lord Tristan and Lady Venus of Cythera." The couple bowed at the herald's words.

"Your Majesty," Lady Venus said. "I wanted you to meet our daughter, Piper." The girl curtsied, as if on cue. She was extremely beautiful—just like her mother, though she took most of her features after her father—and looked at Nico with a strangely puzzled expression.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Piper." Nico bowed—a little, just as protocol dictated.

"The pleasure is all mine. Everyone was dying to meet the Prince of Hades. Well—King of Hades."

Nico chuckled. "I still have trouble getting used to the idea, myself."

Piper smiled at him, but the tension between them was barely defused, nor did her eyes lose their narrowed, puzzled look at him. It never wavered, but conversation was mercifully short, mostly because other couples wanted to talk to the newly-crowned king—and all of them had a son or a daughter to introduce to him. Some were less obvious about their curiosity towards Nico, some were even attempting to be charming. And of course, each of the parents managed to slip a mention of marriage in the conversation—never directed at Nico, but it never failed.

Truth was, Nico felt almost flattered by the attention. Of course, all they wanted to secure their child as Nico's consort, but it was more interest than Nico had ever garnered before. And yet, every time he considered a candidate—with one, in particular, the prince of Atlantis, Nico had almost asked him to dance, and damn the protocol—another candle flickered out on one of the chandeliers. No one noticed but Nico, but it was like a sign to him, like that potential future died like the candle.

Two hours into the ball, the crowd around the dais finally cleared, and Nico thought he was done having to deal with noble families attempting to set him up. And yet the herald spoke once more. "Prince Jason of Olympus."

A young man climbed up the few steps separating Nico from the crowd. One man, alone? Even princes and princesses had been accompanied by their parents—Nico wondered if the royals of Olympus were here at all. His curiosity was crushed when the prince reached him, however. Jason towered over him even as he bowed in front of Nico, his midnight blue suit tracing the strong lines of his body, and when he straightened again, Nico couldn't help but stare at his eyes—shifting grey-blue, evoking the sky to Nico. He didn't study Nico the way the others had, didn't seem impressed or intrigued.

Nico realized he had stared far too long, and bowed back to the prince. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince Jason."

A smile formed on Jason's lips, but he didn't return the greeting like all the others had. "I'm sure you must be bored witless after standing here for so long. Perhaps you'd like a dance?"

He held out a hand, covered in the same velvety, dark blue fabric as the rest of his suit. Nico knew he couldn't really refused, but he still felt his hands twitching as he reached out to take Jason's. He wore his own gloves, of course, but it didn't stop him from studying Jason's eyes closely when they touched. He stood still for a few seconds, and only when he saw the light wasn't fading from those eyes did he speak. "I'd love to."

Jason led him to the dance floor, and briefly hesitated there. Nico could guess why: by rank, Nico should be the one to lead, but it would be somewhat awkward considering their relative sizes, and few men were taught to follow someone else's lead. With a half-smile, he place his hand on Jason's hip, letting him lead. The prince smiled in relief almost immediately, and they started to dance.

"You're a good dancer, Your Majesty." His tone was solemn, but Nico could guess what he meant. A good dancer…for someone who'd been a shut-in for thirteen years.

Nico couldn't help but chuckle. "Just because I didn't host any ball doesn't mean I lived like a hermit in here."

"Still, what did the crown prince do of his time, all alone without anyone worthy of his friendship around?"

Nico frowned at his words. Nobility was arrogant, he knew that much, but it clashed with the air of gentleness that Jason gave off. And yet, he smiled now.

"Are you mocking me?"

"I'm mocking _them_ ," he said, nodding at…well, everyone else in the room. "Though I am curious what you did with your time."

"Why is that?"

"How else can I know who you are?"

Nico studied him. "So you want to know me?"

"Everybody does. They're all wondering why no one got to see you, of course. But none of them dares to ask, for fear they might offend you."

Nico chuckled again. "And then I wouldn't marry their offspring. But you don't care about offending me? Am I to conclude you've already lost interest in me, Prince Jason?"

"I would marry you if you would have me, because that's what my father sent me here for," he said. "As for interest…I can't lose something I don't have."

Nico looked away, but he was unable to hide his hurt. Nor was he able to contain it—on the edge of his awareness, he noticed the light dimming. He couldn't look up to the chandelier above them, but he would be surprised if half of its candles were still burning.

"I—"

"I understand." It was all Nico could do to keep his voice down. _Keep it all in_. The words that ruled his life. "You've been sent to marry, no matter what. Attraction doesn't have to play a part in it."

"That's not what I meant—"

"You don't need to appease my ego, Prince Jason. If anything, I appreciate your honesty."

Jason breathed in to speak again, but the song ended before he could, and Nico let go of his hands. He bowed to him, and practically rushed back to the dais. He heard Jason following after him, but he couldn't catch up through the crowd—several of which were the young scions Nico had met earlier, looking for their own dance, but unsure if they could approach him. Nico wondered how much showed on his face right now. At least Jason couldn't get to him, but he couldn't escape, either.

"Nico." A voice, familiar through the crowd. Nico's heart fluttered when he turned to face its source. Will cleared his throat, suddenly under as much scrutiny as Nico was. "I mean—King Nico."

"Will." He sighed in relief. "Dance with me."

Will frowned at the order, but he smiled nonetheless. "Of course." He took Nico's offered hand, and the crowd cleared around them somewhat, leaving them room to dance.

"Is—is everything okay?"

"Yes." _Keep it all in_. Keep him away, for his sake. "Just nervous." Nico realized they were touching, yet he hadn't checked Will's eyes to make sure he was safe. He looked up at Will, locking his eyes with the boy's, unable to look away.

"People are staring," Will whispered. He looked amused, but Nico could still see the uncomfortably twitch in his smile, the stressed vibration of his voice. Funny how he hadn't forgotten Will's mannerism after all this time—and that Will hadn't lost them, either.

"So are you," Nico teased.

Will instantly looked away. "I'm sorry. Your Majesty."

"Will." He looked back up. "I'm still Nico." He knew he should keep him away, but he couldn't bring himself to keep this up. "And I should be the one to apologize. I was rude, earlier."

"It's your big day. You had a lot on your plate."

"Still, I—"

The music stopped again, and a hand was laid on Nico's shoulder. "Your Majesty, may I have this dance?"

Nico started at the contact, and brushed the hand off—but he couldn't just ignore the newcomer. Mouthing an apology at Will, he turned to face him—some minor lord's son, Nico had forgotten his name. He hadn't looked interested in Nico earlier, but perhaps seeing the king dance with two men had bolstered every lord or lady who had brought their sons.

Nico danced with him, then another, half a dozen. With the last of them, Nico took the lead, for once. It was uncomfortable—this one didn't know how to follow, obviously—but when the music ended, Nico was right next to the dais, where his throne was waiting for him to sit down and rest. He could even refuse to dance some more if he was up there: no one could blame him for needing some time. No one knew what his stamina was, after all, since it was his first ball.

Nico never got up the steps, however. "Your Majesty." He froze at the gentle, begging voice from behind.

Prince Jason met his gaze when he turned, and took Nico's hand. "I haven't properly apologized to you yet."

"I told you; there's no need," Nico said. "You don't…want me, but you're still duty-bound to try and marry me." He couldn't keep his tone low anymore, and heads began to turn, but Nico didn't care. He was too tired, there were too many people around him, scrutinizing him, expecting from him. "I told you I understood. I even said I liked your honesty. What I don't like is your _pity_."

A few gasps around them made him realize he'd been a little too honest himself. But it was true: there was pity in those eyes. Jason's eyes—

They were darkening. One of them was, anyway, half of the iris turned to pure black, only distinguishable from the pupil because it was a shiny, glossy kind of black.

Nico gasped, and pulled his hand out of Jason's grip. His glove slipped, remaining stuck in Jason's hand, and Nico took a few steps back, only to fall on the stairs leading up the dais.

 _Keep it all in_. Nico stared at his hand, and realized he'd failed. As he felt a familiar heat rush down his arms, all the way to his fingertips, all he could do was cry out, "Stay back!"

Power flowed from him, invisible to the eye, but everyone could feel it, and feel its origin. It wasn't something anyone had ever been able to explain—well, the few people who knew, at least—but all humans knew what it was. _Death_.

All remaining lights in the room were blown at once, even though there was no wind inside the great hall. And then, forming at Nico's feet, were ghosts. One at first, then two, then four, then too many to count, grey smoke and somber lights, dark grays and greens. In the absolute darkness of the room, their glow was the only source of light left, casting eerie colors and shadows over the horrified guests' faces.

Jason himself, however, was staring at Nico. Surprised, but…understanding. The puzzle was solved, Nico guessed, and Jason was just the first to figure it out. Even in the dark, all Nico could see was his right eye and its black half.

"A necromancer!" someone shouted, and Nico suddenly realized the position he was in. He scrambled to his feet, and rushed away, towards the door behind the dais. It led to servants' corridors, Nico knew: a perfect way to escape. None of the guests would know these passages well enough to follow him, and now that they knew who Nico was, _what_ Nico was, Nico had to leave.

He shoved the door open, and heard someone call out after him. "Nico!" Will's voice. Nico didn't stop for him—or for any of the other shocked voices that were starting to ring in the great hall as he left.

He kept running, even as the lights went out in the corridors around him and more ghosts appeared. He'd forgotten about the ghosts—they were leaving his trail. Or so he thought: as he passed a turn leading into another hallway, he saw that it too was full of ghosts. Were the appearing everywhere now?

If the ghosts were spreading, if the shadows were spreading, all the more reasons to leave. What if someone died next? No person had ever been affected by him at a distance before, but then again, he'd never faced a disaster like this before.

It was a very short relief when he reached the palace's front gate, until his memory caught up with him. The last step of the coronation ceremony: a speech to the people of Hades's capital city. They were waiting for him, but it was too late to turn back now.

He exited through the gates, and the crowd cheered for him, asking for his blessing. It lasted all of a second, until the first ghost appeared. Then, they went silent; and when the second ghost came, they screamed.

Another scream followed from inside. "King Nico!" Nico didn't wait to see who it was, this time: he ran, the crowd parting for him—in fear or respect, he didn't care—and didn't stop until he was near the palace's outer wall. The gate was closed, he realized, and it would take forever to open. He thought of his other options, tripped as he turned around to try and leave by sea, and fell under the wall's shadow.

And then—the world vanished from around him.


	2. Chapter 2

Will had rushed after Nico as soon as the lights had gone out. Whatever was going on, Nico was the source of it, and he was upset. Will wouldn't—couldn't—just stand by, propriety be damned.

The entire day had been one confusing mess, even though they'd had all of two conversations—and one dance. Will had never dreamed he'd get to dance with Nico at a ball, even when they were kids playing together. He'd always known there would be a line drawn at official events, where he would have to stand in the background—or not be there at all. And yet, they had danced, at Nico's very first ball. Okay, it hadn't been his first dance, but that was still a victory.

Those thoughts played over and over in Will's mind as he rushed after Nico. He remembered the layout of the palace from their days playing through those corridors with Bianca, before she died. And he could guess Nico was trying to leave, which would bring him outside the building, to the outer court. He knew how to get there.

He saw Nico's cape, dragging on the ground behind him as he ran towards the front gate. He'd almost caught up with him, but not fast enough. Nico was out before Will could stop him. _Could_ he even stop him? He was still the king. Will faltered in front of the gates, just long enough for someone else to catch up with _him_. It was the guy who had danced with Nico first, some prince. The guy who had hurt Nico—everyone had heard their argument.

The guy who had caused all this, Will was sure.

He didn't even glance at Will and went out. "King Nico!" he called out, and Will rushed after him, watched Nico scatter the crowd. Both he and the prince ran for him, and had almost caught up when Nico collapsed, then vanished.

"What—?" Will stood there, staring at the spot where Nico was moments ago.

"He's gone." As if Will had needed the prince to tell him that. He turned. "And we're not out of trouble."

Will followed his gaze: the apparitions were still there. They didn't seem to move, but they were becoming clearer, as if coming into focus. They still had a cloud aspect, lit from the inside by an eerie glow, but their shape became that of people.

Not just any people, either. The crowd started to call out names, and their tones and reactions were unequivocal: these were ghosts. Dead people, now reunited with their loved ones. But they didn't seem very enthusiastic: they just hovered, limp and immobile where they'd appeared.

The prince had noticed as well. "They don't appear to be any kind of threat." He glanced at Will. "You know the King, don't you? Personally?"

Will was surprised to be addressed at all, and even more so that the prince had paid enough attention to him to figure out his relationship with Nico. Although, now that he thought about it, everyone _had_ been staring while they danced. "We were friends as children. But even if I knew anything about this, why do you think I should tell you, a complete stranger?"

Jason smirked. "Fair enough." He turned his look away, but not before Will noticed the strange coloration of one of his eye. It seemed familiar to him, something on the tip of his tongue, at the edge of his memory; but he couldn't quite remember. "You should make sure nobody's hurt." Noting Will's lack of reaction, he added, "You _are_ a court physician, aren't you?"

Will started. "Yes, of course." This was his first official assignment as a trainee, and he'd completely forgotten about it the moment Nico had fled. Even if the ghosts didn't seem dangerous, panic alone could have led to people being hurt. He rushed inside, hoping his negligence wouldn't result in anyone being hurt.

* * *

Will was finishing up a bandage on a prince's arm—he'd protected his fiancée from being trampled and ended up stabbing himself with his own dagger—when the royal herald called for the assembly's attention, still gathered in the great hall. They'd attempted to light up the candelabras and chandeliers again, to no avail—no fire would take. However, when they had brought torches, those had kept burning uninterrupted. They provided a weak source of light, unable to obscure the ghosts' glow as they remained immobile in the room.

Next to the herald, the prime minister of Hades cleared his throat. "It appears the King has gone missing. Until he returns, as the king has no next of kin, I will be in charge of the kingdom of Hades."

"'Returns'?" someone cried out. "He caused all this!"

The minister cast a haughty glare in the direction the voice had come from. "We cannot know what is happening until we hear the King's own testimony. So far, no dire consequences have…arisen. We cannot jump to conclusions—and we won't." He turned his attention away from the troublemaker. "Search teams have been sent to look for the King, but any help will be welcome—and remembered."

Whispers rose, and already, a few of the guests—noble princes, princesses, sons and daughters of nobility—emerged from the crowd, boldly claiming they would find the King and return him safe and sound. But from Will stood, far from the minister, he heard others. "Do you think we could make the ghosts vanish if—" "Why take the King back?" "A necromancer!"

Will couldn't stand up next to those fine people and claim he'd find the King. That would be seen as trying to be their equal—and he was just a court physician. In training.

Still, he had to find Nico. If anyone could reach out to him, Will was sure he could. He left the great hall while the crowd was still arguing with themselves.

* * *

Will didn't wish to, but he had to go home before he could leave after Nico. The white uniform wasn't meant to be travel clothes; they were impractical, attracted far too much attention, and wouldn't keep him from the cold nights of Hades. He needed supplies, too: food and tools and who knew what else.

Most importantly, he couldn't leave without saying goodbye. That was the hardest part.

"I know you're disappointed in me, Master Apollo." That's what he'd always called his instructor—even though everyone, including Will himself, knew that he was Will's father. The results of a foolish affair with a minor noble lady. The court physician had never acknowledged it himself. "But I'm not asking for permission. Nico—King Nico needs me. I'm going after him."

Apollo gave Will a once-over. He was already out of his uniform, starting to sweat in his travel clothes—due to the heat, or the discomfort of Apollo's study, Will wasn't sure. Then, surprisingly, Apollo nodded. "Make it count," he said. "If I can't write a song about your adventures, _then_ I'll be disappointed in you."

Will frowned—he didn't really expect any adventure—but he nodded, holding back a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Master Apollo. I will!"

He grabbed the backpack he'd prepared, and rushed out into the night.

* * *

As he reached the city's limits, he saw other groups leaving, just like him. Unlike him, they had horses and torches—even weapons, Will noticed. Unlike him, they were going out at random.

Will had a theory, and he hoped it would work in his favor. Nico may have vanished without a trace, sure, but Will doubted he'd just ended up _anywhere_. Even if whatever had taken him had not been under Nico's control, he would have found a refuge, one where Nico thought no one could find him. And Will knew the first place Nico would choose. All Will had to do was walk south, along the River Phlegethon, and he'd be there by the next nightfall.

As usual, the river glowed orange at night, making it look like liquid fire. Will was certain some scholar at court would be able to tell him what caused it, but at the moment, all that mattered to Will was that it did, lighting his way in the dark.

However, the river wasn't his only source of light: wherever he went, more ghosts were there. They'd spread out from the palace, into the city, and now outside of it. Whatever was happening, Nico's absence wasn't slowing it down. Maybe they were all wrong—maybe Nico _wasn't_ responsible for it. Will could tell him that when they were reunited; and with renewed hope, he kept walking.

The ghosts were still silent, still harmless, but no longer immobile. They moved now; slowly, but with evident purpose. They couldn't touch him—Will had already walked through one accidentally, earlier—but they still gave him the creeps. At least he hadn't seen the ghost of anyone he knew, so far.

Aside from ghosts, the roads were deserted—but at this time of the night, Will wasn't surprised. The only person he saw was a rider, one of the princes from the coronation; Will couldn't even make out his face before he was out of sight again.

After a couple hours—by Will's estimation—he paused to catch his breath and drink from the water skin stashed in his backpack.

"What have we here?"

Will started, looking towards the voice's source, but with the river behind him, there was only darkness. "Who-who's there?"

"Is that another one of those princes?" Another voice, higher-pitched.

"He doesn't have a horse."

"Or weapons." A third voice.

Three figures entered the area lit by the river's glow, clothed in pelts and rough leathers and each holding weapons in their heads—graceless weapons, almost tools, but Will didn't doubt they could kill just as easily.

Bandits. Will caught his backpack and leaped to the side, following the river downstream as he planned. He was a fast runner; maybe he could escape them. They didn't seem to care if he escaped, though: they went after him, but they laughed even as Will distanced them.

Will realized why too late, as another figure came into view. "Help!" he called out, desperately, but whoever it was was waiting for him. Another bandit, tall and wide and unarmed. He didn't have to: Will's momentum carried him straight into the man's arms, and his strong grip was all he needed to restrain Will's movements.

"Let me go! I don't have anything of value!"

"Didn't they ever teach you never to say that to bandits?" Yet another voice, definitely feminine this time, coming from behind the bandit holding him. "If you're worthless to us, we'll have no reason to keep you alive." She came out from behind the thug as their comrades caught up. She had jet-black hair, only visible by their silhouette against the Phlegethon's water, and her skin and features were surprisingly delicate, for a bandit. "Search his backpack. I'll search him."

Will could sense her smirk more than he saw it in the dark. As the thugs tore his backpack from his shoulders, she walked closer to him. With Will still immobilized, she rummaged through his pocket, then inside his coat, finding nothing. Yet she lingered, tracing to his shirt's pockets—still empty—then to Will's waistband. She untucked his shirt, and Will couldn't help but try to squirm away from her.

"Well, maybe you can have _some_ value," she said. Then, louder—to her companion—she added, "I'm keeping him. As a…playmate."

"What? No!" Will struggled, but the bandit's grip was like iron on his arms. "I need to find the King! Don't you want those ghosts to disappear?"

She laughed—a melodious laugh, worthy of the queens and princesses that Will had seen at the coronation earlier—and walked away. "Get him to my tent."

"Yes, Drew."

The bandit holding him dragged him, Will still struggling against him—in vain.

A faint noise came to Will's ears. Hoofbeats. "Help!" he managed to scream, before the bandit clasped a hand on his mouth and kept dragging him away.

They left the riverside, and there was no ghost around, leaving them completely in the dark. But he heard noise, the clang of metal against metal, exclamations and huffs as people fought. Still, his captor seemed intent on keeping him: even when he froze and turned back, he still resisted Will's struggles with ease.

Silence fell again, and the bandit didn't move, keeping a firm hold of Will. They stood, waiting, and finally, a lone set of footsteps came to them, preceding a figure. The person was barely visible in the dark, but the glint of metal preceded him—a sword, most likely.

The bandit shifted, finally showing signs of nervousness. If he hoped to stay unnoticed, however, he was soon disappointed.

"Let the boy go," the newcomer said.

The bandit didn't react or reply at first; then, he moved his hand away from Will's mouth…and clasped it around his throat. Will gasped for air—he wasn't _quite_ strangling him, but close to it.

"Let him go," the other one repeated. "Your comrades are alive. I knocked them out, but one of them was badly wounded in our fight. Let the boy go, and you can get to them, help the one who's bleeding—your leader, I believe. Kill him, and I'll kill _you_. Then she dies too."

The bandit grunted, and his hand vanished from around Will's body, who collapsed to the ground, breathing in hard, as if that could make up for the air he'd lacked before. The thug ran, and keeping promise, Will's savior let him. Will wondered if he'd really go and save the woman. He wasn't sure he wanted him to.

When he'd finally caught his breath, Will looked up to find his savior kneeling in front of him. "Are you all right?"

Will nodded—then, realizing it was foolish to do so in the dark, added, "Yes. They didn't hurt me." He sighed. "Thank you. You saved me."

"It's nothing. I did what I had to do." He held out something between them. "I believe this is yours? The bandits were arguing over it when I arrived."

Will reached out, and found his backpack in his hands. "It is. Thank you. Again. Um—"

"Jason."

Will started at the name. "Prince Jason." He couldn't help but pull his backpack away from him. He was responsible for all this. Of course _he_ was the one to save Will.

"Just Jason, please. I'm only a 'Prince' because it sounds better for a herald to say than 'King Jupiter's youngest bastard'."

Will gaped at him, even if Jason couldn't see it. Who in their right mind would outright _reject_ a title of nobility to a complete stranger? "I—see." He stood up, unable to hide his discomfort. "Well, I should get going."

Jason's hand gripped his arm, preventing him from leaving. "If I may—where are you going? It's not safe out here, especially at night, and you're unarmed."

"It's—it's very important." Will shrugged Jason's hand off, walking back towards the Phlegethon. Unsurprisingly, Jason walked right by his side.

"Still, why go alone? Is there no one you could travel with?"

Of course not. He'd seen the Nico he knew, earlier today—for a moment. If he brought a stranger, he'd be unable to get Nico to open up. "What's it to you? Aren't you looking for King Nico?" Will thought he remembered seeing him volunteer.

"Aren't _you_?"

Will froze, and stared at Jason. They'd reached the river, and its glow was bathing both of them in its fiery light. Under it, Jason's eyes looked like a twilight sky—except for half of his right eye, which was a glossy black.

"You're the court physician. The one King Nico danced with. You _know_ him; why else would he have done that? And you think you know where he is." Will remained silent, trying to school his features not to give away anything. But Jason didn't seem to need confirmation. "If I escort you, I have more chances of finding the King."

"And then what?"

Jason frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What do you intend to do to him when— _if_ you find him?"

"Ask him to undo what he did. To send those ghosts back." He paused, as if he expected Will to ask something else. "Surely you've noticed that they were becoming…stronger. First they were shapeless; now, they look like deceased people, and they can move. They have intelligence. I don't want to find out what happens next. Hopefully King Nico understands that."

"I don't think Nico knew he could do that." At least Will _hoped_ so.

"Really? Why else do you think he spent thirteen years locked up in the palace?"

"I—I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't willingly endanger his people."

"I believe you."

Will frowned at him, surprised by his words and their simplicity. "You didn't answer me. What do you plan to do if you find Nico? If he can't send the ghosts back? Are you going to kill him?"

"What? Of course not!" Jason's answer had been quick, an outburst of emotion through his polite façade.

Will decided he could trust that. "All right. Yes, I think I know where the King is. If we start walking now, we can be there by tomorrow at sundown." He kept their destination to himself—he could only trust Jason _so_ far.

Jason chuckled. "No need to walk. We can ride there. It won't be much faster—Tempest will need to rest with two riders—but at least we won't be exhausted when we get there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drew's role in this chapter was loosely inspired by the bandit maiden from the original Snow Queen along with my own perverted mind. I'm sorry =/


	3. Chapter 3

Will had fallen asleep after they'd started riding, and Jason had had to wrap his arms around Will's waist to make sure he didn't fall from Tempest's saddle while they rode. The boy had said to follow the Phlegethon "until they couldn't anymore". Jason didn't know the geography of southern Hades all that well, but whatever it meant, he hoped he could figure it out—or that Will woke up before they reached it.

He shouldn't have worried; Will woke up when the first rays of sunlight came up. By this point, he was leaning back, pressed against Jason's chest in a way that might have been pleasant, hadn't they been about the same size. As it was, Jason had to be careful not being hit in the chin by Will's head. Feeling him stir was a blessing.

"Sorry I fell asleep," Will mumbled.

"It's all right. You had a rough night." He pulled Tempest to a stop. "We should rest for a bit."

"I don't need—"

"No, but Tempest does." Jason jumped off his horse, then held out a hand to help Will—which the boy took with a small smile.

"And you?"

"I'll be fine." Truth be told, Jason _was_ tired himself, but Will didn't look comfortable enough on a horse that Jason would leave him in total control for both of them, and he couldn't afford to stop and sleep. Time was of the essence. Besides, between assassination attempts on his person and foolish quests given by his father, it wasn't the first time Jason was forced to go a whole day without any sleep.

Will sat down on the ground, and rummaged through his backpack, pulling a water skin and two apples from it. "Want some?"

Jason blushed as he realized he hadn't taken any provisions himself. "Thanks." He hadn't expected to be gone so long, but he _had_ seen King Nico vanish. Why did he think he would be close to the castle? If the ghosts were any indication, that had been no parlor trick. He glanced at Will. "Do you really think the King's a—necromancer?"

Will looked up at him. "I don't know. Nobody even remembers what that _is_. But if I go by my grandma's stories…then no. Nico's not a bloodthirsty madman, that's for sure."

Jason could agree with that assessment. "So you really didn't know about any of it?"

"It's been thirteen years. Obviously there's a lot I don't know about Nico."

"He knew, though. He wasn't surprised when it happened. He immediately knew he had to run away."

"What would _you_ have done in his place?"

Jason glanced at Will again, meeting his angered glare. "I—don't know. It's hard to imagine."

"Exactly. Don't judge him."

"I'm not." Sighing, he sat down next to Will. "What was he like? When you knew him?"

"He was…funny, and excitable. He was my best friend, and he didn't care who I was. He could've—we were old enough to understand that he was a prince and I was a nobody. But he didn't mind. Neither did his sister."

"I've heard about her. Bianca, is that it? She died when—"

"Yes. When they closed the palace's gates."

"Do you think it's all connected?"

"I don't know." Will sighed. "I—I don't remember anything about that day."

" _Anything_? Your best friend's sister died, and it was the last time you saw him! How can you not remember?"

"I don't know!" Will repeated. "Maybe it _is_ connected. How would I even know? We have no idea what Nico can do. It's not like there's an obvious link between summoning ghosts and vanishing like he did."

Jason hummed distractedly, but he was remembering a legend he'd read about the kingdom of Hades. How a nymph who lived at the source of one of its rivers was rumored to have the gift of oblivion. What was the river called? He couldn't remember.

"—anyway," Will kept rambling with Jason barely listening, "when we get there, you'll have to stay back. Nico will freak out enough that we found him. Nobody's supposed to know about that place. So it's better if you let me talk to him alone first. Especially since you—"

"Since I what?"

"Well, he was arguing with you when it all—happened."

Jason blinked repeatedly. "You think this is _my_ fault?"

"I'm not saying that, I—"

Jason sighed. "No. You're probably right."

"What was going on, anyway?"

"I—misspoke to him. And he was insulted. Rightfully so."

Will chuckled. "You accidentally insulted Nico? But you're so— _polite_."

"I was trying for honesty, for once. I'm not very good at it. Force of habit."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was here to marry him, like many others, but I wasn't personally interested in him. Romantically." Will's wince was eloquent enough. "All I meant was that—I couldn't be interested in him because I barely _knew_ him. I didn't want to promise him love if I wasn't sure I could love him."

"Why not just say that?"

Jason looked away, biting his lip were a small scar marked it. "Force of habit, as I said."

"So—do you think you could? Love him?"

Jason remained silent. There had been a moment, before he'd made a fool of himself, where he'd seen something in Nico that echoed within him. And when Nico had danced with Will, so close to him, so _intimate_ in a way that transcended words or etiquette, Jason had felt a hint of jealousy, but he'd chalked it up to seeing a commoner succeed where he'd failed. "I don't know." Will considered him silently, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "We should get back on the road," Jason said, before the boy could say something.

* * *

"Why were you trying honesty with Nico?"

Will's question took Jason by surprise; they had barely spoken all morning. "What do you mean?"

"You told me you were trying for honesty, and you weren't used to it. But why were you?"

Jason sighed. "I've been engaged before. Twice. I had to break it off because we couldn't be honest to each other."

"Isn't that what marriage is like for you highborn? Intrigues and backstabbing?"

"It is. But I don't want that."

"So you went after a king. Yes, I can see how that would get you out of political intrigue."

Jason chuckled. "I didn't have a choice in coming here. But I did promise myself I wouldn't be engaged to someone I don't love. Not anymore. Even my father can't force me to propose—or to accept a proposal I don't want." He paused. "Why do you care so much about my love life?"

Will shrugged. "I just want to understand what you want from Nico."

"I'm still trying to figure it out myself," Jason said.

Will laughed, but a sound alerted Jason, and he tensed up immediately. Under him, Tempest grew restless as well, and Will seemed to understand that something was wrong.

It took a moment for Jason's brain to catch up with his instinct and piece together what exactly that was: two crows, flying above them, in a disorderly pattern, unlike any bird Jason had ever seen before. Moments later, one of them plummeted, crashing to the ground a few paces away from Jason. Frowning, he nudged Tempest, who walked up to the bird. The other crow landed nearby as well, strangely unbothered by the humans' presence—or unwilling to let its companion alone.

Jason dismounted then, under Will's disbelieving stare. "What're you doing? It's just a crow."

"How many crows have you seen crashing like that, out in the open?" Jason knelt beside the bird, who didn't even so much as flinch away. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, slowly reaching out. He tried to look for signs of a wound, or an arrow shaft sticking out, but he found nothing.

"Its wing's broken," Will said. He'd dismounted too, and was standing behind Jason, studying the crow.

"But why would it fly with a broken wing?"

Will shrugged. "Maybe it broke _while_ it was flying?"

Jason frowned. "That would require blunt force—what could do that to a flying bird?"

The other raven cawed excitedly, and Tempest echoed its nervousness, trampling in place. Jason turned his attention away from the wounded bird, and saw them: ghosts, advancing on them. There were only two of them, and in daylight, they were far less noticeable than they had been at night. They were walking towards them, or at least, they _looked_ like they were walking; but they covered ground much faster than a human could even run.

Will's voice echoed Jason's thoughts. "Do you think they—"

Jason stood up, walking to Tempest to calm him—as if he could somehow calm himself that way. "I wouldn't bet against it."

The healthy crow took off as the ghost neared them, and Jason and Will got the confirmation they needed: one of the ghost leaped off the ground, reaching out for the bird with a vicious smile. The crow was prepared however, and narrowly dodged, as the ghost fell back down to the earth. So they were still limited, Jason noted, unsheathing his sword.

Moments later, both ghosts were on them. The wounded crow cawed—in terror, Jason guessed—and limped away, while Will stood in place, frozen. Jason stepped in front of him, sword ready.

The first ghost—the one who hadn't jumped—connected with Jason with enough force to knock him back a few steps. Jason's training kicked in, and he managed to keep his balance; when he looked back up at the ghost, he noticed that it had flinched away, dark green gas seeping from where Jason's sword had cut it.

"What?" he taunted. "You don't like Imperial gold?" That, or the enchantments crafted into the blade. Jupiter may not always treat his bastard son well, but when he sent him to woo a king, he gave him the proper attire to impress.

Jason slashed at the ghost, feeling a rush of satisfaction as he tore through whatever it was made of. The ghost hissed, and, the sword still embedded in it, pulled away, dragging Jason with it. he recovered his weapon, but the momentum carried him in range of another blow, cutting off his breath.

Okay. Maybe telling the ghost that the blade was the only thing he couldn't touch was a _bad_ idea.

Jason landed on his knees, and rolled to the side to avoid a kick. He'd barely recovered when the other ghost was on him. Jason slashed wide and took a few steps back, focusing on keeping both at bay and forcing them to stay in front of him.

One of the ghosts struck at him, and Jason parried, but once again, the force of the blow was enough to send him backwards. The ghost hissed in pain, but it wasn't enough. Jason had to evade them if he wanted to get close enough to strike.

He feinted at the ghost on his right, keeping his attention on both of them. Sure enough, the other ghost moved in on him; Jason rolled on the ground, got back on his feet behind the ghosts, and struck. He'd stabbed at the rough position of the heart, out of habit: but when his blade connected, the ghost reared back, violently enough that Jason lost his grip on the sword and fell backwards. Still, moments later, the creature vanished, and his sword clattered to the ground, out of reach.

The remaining ghost noticed as well, and pounced at Jason, just like it had pounced at the bird before. It landed on top oh him, reaching for Jason's face, who gripped the ghost's wrists to push him away—in vain. The ghost's arms went from rock solid to cloudy and immaterial between Jason's fingers, but when his fist connected with Jason's face, it was very solid once more.

Dazed, Jason went limp, but the ghost froze as well, before reaching out to Jason's face again. He didn't punch him: he only laid a hand over the right side of Jason's face. Immediately, pain flooded in from Jason's eye, like the ghost was burning through his skull. Jason howled, but it didn't stop: the pain shot inwards, then down his throat, spreading through his body in unbearable agony.

Then—nothing. The pain vanished, as did the ghost's weight over Jason.

* * *

He must have blacked out, because Jason woke up, feeling like he'd just been through torture—a sensation Jason was intimately familiar with. Will was kneeling beside him, a worried look on his face and a bloodied cloth in his hands.

"What happened?" Jason managed to mutter.

Will started, and held him down when he tried to sit up. "Don't move. You've lost a lot of blood."

"What? They just punched me, how could I—" Will's look was serious enough to quiet Jason's protests. "What happened?" he repeated, darkly.

"That ghost was on you, and I—I just took your sword. It was right there." Will's speech was jerky, unsure. "I just—"

"You killed the ghost?"

"I guess? Can you even _kill_ a ghost?"

Jason chuckled, the lack of pain in his ribs reassuring him about his own condition. "Then what?"

"I don't know. You were screaming, and your eye was bleeding out—it was terrifying. I tried to do something about the bleeding"—he held out the bloodied cloth—"but then it just…stopped."

Jason frowned. "I don't understand. What was _that_?"

"Well, what's wrong with your eye?"

Something in Will's tone made Jason glance at him. "What do you mean?"

"Your eye—it's half black. Well, more than half, now. I guess I missed that last night."

Jason stared at him. "What?"

"You mean you didn't know?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd know if one of my eye wasn't the same color as the other, yes."

Will looked around him. "Well, just—here." He held out the sword, the flat of its blade right in front of Jason's face, and Jason caught his reflection in it.

Jason stared at himself, dumbfounded at what he was seeing. His right eye was black—part of it, anyway. More than half, as Will had said. "I've never seen that before."

"You were already like that last night," Will insisted.

Silence stretched between them, as Jason tried to figure out what it was—what it _meant_. Eventually, he gave up. "Let's just get back on the road," he said, sitting up—ignoring Will's attempt at holding him down. "We've already wasted enough time."

"You really shouldn't—"

"What? Do you know what's wrong with me?" Will jumped at Jason's sudden outburst, and he regretted it immediately. "Sorry. But we should focus on one problem at a time." Besides, whatever had happened to him, it had happened at the coronation. Jason was willing to bet Nico was connected. He shook his head, as if that could dismiss the thought. "If ghosts are attacking us, who knows how they're doing in the capital? We need to hurry."

Will's eyes widened, and he didn't argue anymore when Jason climbed on Tempest's back.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, they reached the end of the road: the Phlegethon disappeared underground, and ahead of them, laid the desolate, arid landscape of Tartarus Valley.

"Where do we go now?" Jason asked. Will hadn't provided any more directions.

"Straight ahead."

"In the valley? Are you trying to get us killed? Why would King Nico—or _anyone_ —go there?"

"He's gone there."

"That's not good enough. I'm not going in a desert infamous for toxic _everything_ , as night is almost falling, just because you're cryptically certain of it!"

Will remained silent for a moment, but eventually, he sighed. "The necropolis. That's where he'll be."

"What would he do there?"

"Kings and queens of Hades are all given a mausoleum there. That includes Nico's mother. Even when we were kids, he went there when he wanted to be alone."

"I thought Queen Persephone had died three years ago, with her husband."

Will chuckled. "She wasn't Nico's mother. King Pluto had two wives. Nico's mother, Queen Maria, died when he was very young."

 _Two_ wives? The way Will said it didn't sound like it was a second marriage. Would his father really have forgotten to mention him this detail about Hades marriage customs when he'd sent him to marry the new King of Hades?

Who was he kidding. Of course his father wouldn't have _forgotten_. He'd just kept the information to himself.

"Okay, I guess that makes sense. Where is it?"

"It's on the edge of the desert; we're pretty close. As I said, Nico went there on his own, and he was only a kid then."

Jason abstained from asking if Nico couldn't have gone the same way he had now—by vanishing there. "Okay. Just show me the way."


	4. Chapter 4

It was surprisingly pleasant inside the mausoleum. Nico had forgotten that detail when he first walked inside, but it had been designed like a small palace—and that included isolation against the desert's extreme temperatures, cold at night, unbearably hot in the day.

He wasn't completely sure how he'd ended up in the necropolis. One moment, he was in the palace's outer court, stumbling down; the next, he was in the desert. But when he walked inside his mother's mausoleum, a rush of memories came. The place was untouched; his father hadn't honored her as he should have, busy as he was pleasing his other wife, and Nico himself hadn't left the palace since Bianca's death. The palace was built in a material that glowed delicately, perpetually bathing it in a soft, pale light, just like in Nico's memory. Even the scent, incense and dust and a hint of his mother's perfume, was still the same.

Nico breathed it in, flashing back to his time there as a child. Bianca had been with him, sometimes, and Will had come with him once, too. They'd played there, as children did. Nico's stepmother had once told him it was disrespectful towards his mother, but Nico hadn't agreed then, and he still didn't now. When he played here, it was like his mother was watching, smiling at her children's antics.

"Cheater!" Bianca had teased him when they played hide-and-seek and Nico vanished from a shadow just before Bianca found him. This was how he'd first found out about his abilities. How could he have forgotten about it?

Nico followed the memories, retracing his own steps almost as surely as if he could see footprints in the dust. He reached a corner of the entrance hall, where the light didn't reach. With a smile, Nico closed his eyes…

…and opened them to the mausoleum's central chamber. His mother's tomb was there, a recumbent effigy of her still intact and serene.

Nico walked up to it, tracing his mother's features with his fingers. The servants in the palace had told him they looked alike, and he could almost believe it, now that he saw her likeness again.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he whispered. "I wasn't up to the task."

He walked out, climbing up the stairs to find the visitors' quarters. They had barely been used, since King Pluto had never organized a celebration for his departed wife, but Nico had slept here, once or twice. It had angered his parents, and it had only made him want to do it again. Until Bianca's death, that is.

The bedroom seemed smaller to Nico, but he guessed it was only because he'd grown up. The bed was still large, but no longer large enough for him to feel like he owned his own little island. He could now reach the top of the wardrobe, and find the ball Nico had once thrown there by mistake without being able to get it back. Nico considered the toy with a nostalgic smile. If only his worries could be so simple as a toy he couldn't get back.

He untied his cape and let it fall to the floor, and dropped his crown on the nightstand. He wouldn't be needing it here. Finally, he let himself drop on the bed, enjoying a moment of peace.

* * *

Nico woke up without even knowing when he'd fallen asleep. There was no true window in the bedroom, only a translucent panel in the wall, letting in enough light to let him know he'd slept through most of the day.

Without the previous night's panic muddying his thoughts, he was left with the jarring realization of what he'd done. He'd left Hades, at his own coronation. He'd shown everyone what he could do. What he was.

"Now what?"

Nico felt foolish, talking to himself out loud, but he couldn't help but feel like the silence was pressing around him, choking him.

The mausoleum's lights—the stone's magical glow—flickered out around him, and Nico winced. It was _still_ happening. He'd thought that getting away would at least help him get his ability back under control.

It didn't last long, but for a brief moment, the lights were out completely, and Nico knew what to expect. The ghost that showed up, however, was unlike any Nico had conjured before. He wasn't a shapeless cloud, evoking the idea of a person more than looking like one. This one was very much a person, tall and dark, almost solid. Only his lack of color and his inner glow gave him away for what he truly was.

"Your Majesty," he said, his tone mocking, and his bow exaggerated.

No ghost had ever spoken before. "Who are you?" he said, standing up—and inching towards the door. "What are you doing here?"

"My name is Minos. You called us all last night, I believe?"

"What do you want?"

"I should be the one asking that question. You summoned us."

Nico frowned. "I—I didn't _intend_ to."

The ghost scoffed. "How unfortunate. Very well." He vanished before Nico could say anything.

* * *

Still shaken by Minos's appearance, Nico walked through the mausoleum. There had to be a reserve somewhere. It wouldn't be much, only non-perishables, but Nico felt a pang of hunger, and anything to give him a sense of purpose was appreciated.

He ended up back in the entrance hall, atop the massive staircase central to the room, searching his memory to find which way would lead him to the reserve. He'd reached the bottom of the staircase when there was a noise coming from outside, progressively getting louder. Panicked, Nico dove under the stairs before the doors opened.

A single set of footsteps echoed through the hall, followed by a familiar voice. "Nico? Nico, are you here? It's me, Will."

Nico gasped—way too loud. Will was sure to have heard him now. He took a deep breath, then emerged from his hiding place. "Will?"

He was out of his uniform, wearing simple, grey travel clothes and a backpack. Ridiculously adorable, even then—in spite of the weariness on his face, and the hints of blond scrub on his cheeks.

Will smiled. "Hi." He walked up to Nico, slowly, almost carefully. "I—It's good to see you again. I was worried."

He reached out to Nico, but Nico stepped away before he could. "Don't—don't do that." Will's hurt was inscribed on his face, but it was for his own good. "I'm glad to see you too, just—stay away from me."

"You are?"

Will's voice was weak, barely audible. And yet, Nico could hear the hopeful note in it. He grimaced—it'd been a mistake to say that. He couldn't let that happen. "You're here because of what happened at the coronation, aren't you? You're here to bring me back? I'm not coming back. The Prime Minister has been ruling for three years—he can continue, for all I care."

"Nico—you can't seriously be saying that."

"Why not? You've seen what I can do. Who would want a King like that anyway? A—a necromancer." He'd never used the word for himself—never _thought_ to use it—before someone else had called him that, the previous night.

"That's not what you are. You know it."

"Isn't it? Didn't I summon ghosts at my own coronation?" The light flickered again; Nico was losing control. Maybe he could use it. Scare Will away. "I can't rule Hades like that. It's best if I stay here, where everyone's safe from me."

"Well—not really."

Nico stared at him. "What do you mean?" What disaster had he caused, this time?

"The ghosts…they didn't go away after last night. And when I was on the road…we were attacked by some of them."

"Attacked you? But they never did anything like that before—"

Will frowned, but he continued. "That's why we need you. To send them back."

"But—I don't know how. They always just vanished." Had he really unleashed an army of ghosts on his own kingdom? He leaned against the staircase, feeling his legs grow weak. The lights wavered again, coming dangerously close to turning off.

"Is everything all right?" A new voice, startling Nico. Will had said 'we', he realized. Who was with him? "I could see the lights from outside. Will?"

"I'm fine," Will called back. "Nico, come with us. Even if you don't know how to send them back, I'm sure you _can_. We _need_ you."

The newcomer had crossed the entrance hall, and Nico recognized him. Prince Jason. Nico couldn't bear to look at him. "You _need_ me. But then what? Do you think they'll be happy that I saved them from everything I caused in the first place? They won't want me to stay."

"I would," Will said, without hesitation.

There he went again. "Would you? You don't know what I can do. I—I killed Bianca, Will." Stunned silence fell in between them, but Nico didn't wait for Will to process—or protest. "I did. It was an accident, but I did. I lost control, like I did last night, and she took my hands to comfort me. But it didn't work, and her eyes turned black. They bled out, and she died." He took a huge breath. "You were there. My father gave you water from the Lethe so that you'd forget."

"And you spent all those years practically alone because of that?" Nico had expected anger, or horror, but not _pity_.

"I haven't been able to get it back under control ever since. What was I supposed to do? Kill everyone I touch?" He sighed. "The staff didn't know—they only knew I couldn't touch them. But I couldn't do the same with everyone. Did you notice, just in one night, how many people wanted to dance with me? I couldn't have done that all the time."

"You did what you had to."

Nico turned to Jason, feeling irrationally angry that he'd been there to hear his confession. Ever more so that he didn't seem to blame him any more than Will did. But his anger made way to something else when he stared in Jason's eyes. "You—"

Jason misinterpreted his reaction, and chuckled. "Did I make so little an impression, that you barely just recognized me, Your Majesty?"

Nico scoffed. "Your _eye_."

He smiled weakly. "Yeah, I figure it's the same thing, right? But I'm fine."

"You're not. It's spreading. It was the same for Bianca." He'd hoped that Jason would be fine once Nico left, but his entire eye was black now, and it hadn't been at the coronation; there was no mistaking it.

"But—"

"I assume she died faster because she kept a hold of me, or—I don't really know. But—you're dying too." He fell back against the staircase again. "It's all my fault." Even breathing was difficult.

Hands clasped on Nico's, the one for which he'd lost his glove, and brought him out of his torpor. "Nico. Snap out of it!" Will, wonderful, beautiful, stupid Will, somehow still trying to help him.

Nico tried to tear his hand away, but Will didn't let him. Reflexively, he locked eyes with Will, but they were still the same. "Please. Let go of me."

"Promise me that you'll come with us. That we'll figure out a solution to all this. And that you'll stay even after it's all over."

"Fine! I promise! Just let go!" Will's hand had left him before he was even finished. "Thank you," he said. He was out of breath, and felt ridiculous for it. "Now what?"

"Why don't you tell us what you know about your powers?" Jason asked. "Anything could be key."

Nico sighed. "Fine. Can we talk about it over dinner, though? I'm starving."

* * *

Between Will's provisions and what little was stored in the mausoleum's reserve, they managed to make themselves a decent enough meal. Nothing worthy of palace life, but good enough, and Nico was too hungry to care. He was more curious about Jason, who didn't seem to mind the simplicity either, even though he was a prince.

"It started here," he said. "I could use the shadows to…travel, I guess. I don't really know how to explain it. Only Bianca knew about that. But then—it became different. I could _make_ shadows, even if there was a source of light. Then I started to make lights go out."

"You mean you controlled it?" Jason asked.

Nico nodded. "At the time, yes. Do you think I would have let Bianca—if I'd known?"

"Of course not. I'm sorry. Continue, please."

Nico scoffed, but he obliged. "One night, I killed all the nights in the nursery. Bianca was there too, and one of these…ghosts…appeared. It was just pretty lights to her; but I could feel there was a person there. It didn't stay long, and nothing really happened."

"So what led to you losing control in the first place?" Will asked. "When Bianca—"

Nico met his gaze, unsure if he should tell him. But he'd promised to help. "You did. You kissed me."

Will gaped at him. "I did?"

There was something almost funny, seeing him so distraught at having no memory of kissing Nico. Almost funny…but definitely sad. Nico's dad hadn't just stolen a day of his life from Will, hadn't just taken away his best friend, his only friend at court: King Pluto had taken away his first kiss, too. "We were just kids," Nico said. "It didn't really matter." But seeing Will's lingering gaze, he wondered. Even if Will didn't remember kissing Nico, he had to remember what had led him to that decision.

Jason cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "So…both times you lost control was because of unwanted advances?"

"I wouldn't phrase it that way," Nico said, blushing. Both of them gave him an inquisitive look, which he did his best to ignore. "It's more—when I'm upset? Afraid?"

"Afraid?"

Nico nodded. "Yeah, I think that's it."

"But…why would you be afraid that I kissed you?"

Nico glanced at Jason. "Because _he's_ the kind I'm supposed to marry. I thought—if my father even _thought_ you were going to distract me from that—that they'd send you away."

"Okay. What about me?" Jason asked. "What'd I do to scare you?"

Nico noticed Will's angry look at Jason, but he ignored it. Finding an appropriate answer wasn't easy. And he couldn't say _because I thought I might fall for you, and you'd just said you weren't interested_. "It wasn't personal. Do I really _have_ to explain why I'd be nervous in such a crowd?"

It was true, which made for the best lies, but when he saw Jason's stare, eyes narrowed and studying—in a way he hadn't looked at Nico, even when everyone else at the ceremony did—Nico wasn't sure Jason had bought it.

"We can't just chalk it up to emotions, though," Will protested. "You could control it, once, and you didn't just stop feeling as a kid."

 _Keep it all in_. Bianca had told him that. It was her last words to him, in fact. Words Nico had lived by. "Maybe, but—"

"And look at you now. You're keeping it under control, right?"

Nico looked down at his own bare hand. When his glove had slipped in Jason's hand, things had happened just like Nico had feared: lights going out, ghosts appearing. But now—nothing. The lights had flickered twice, when Nico was upset, but that had been all.

"I wonder…" he said, to himself more than to Will or Jason. He held out his hand, remembering how he'd once played with Bianca that way. Power rushed through him, leaving his fingertips, spiraling out, circling them in a sphere. He hadn't gone for full darkness; the light was simply dimmer.

Will had looked at him with curiosity, Jason with weariness, but by the time he was finished, they were both looking around, amused expressions on their faces.

"See?" Will said, hopeful.

Nico managed to smile at him, before Jason cried out and collapsed from his chair, falling on the tiled floor.

"Jason!" Will said, rushing to his side. Nico let the darkness vanish, fearing that the lights would flicker out and bring another ghost again…but there was nothing. Slowly, he got up and walked around the table.

Will was dabbing Jason's face with a napkin, which came up heavy with blood.

"It's both of his eyes," Will said, and Nico understood what he meant. Jason was passed out, now, so they couldn't see his irises to confirm, but if he bled from both eyes, then it had spread even further.


	5. Chapter 5

Nico wouldn't help Will move Jason to a bed, and while Will understood his reasons, it was still a hassle to do it on his own.

Eventually, they ended in the bedroom Nico had used—Will guessed it when he saw the crown on the nightstand—sitting on either side of the bed with Jason sprawled on it.

"It's all my fault," Nico said.

"I think this is the tenth time you say that in as many minutes. Do you have an average you need to keep up?"

"It _is_. It got worse because I started toying with my powers around him."

"You're trying to understand how they work. It's the first step to stopping all of this." Nico didn't answer, but Will doubted he'd change his mind so easily. "Look, I get it—you're scared. You've been scared for years. But you can't keep this up forever."

"Why not? If it keeps everyone safe?"

"Because you deserve to be safe too."

Nico looked up at him, opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Then, finally, he said, "How did you two end up here together?"

Will chuckled. "He saved me. From bandits."

"You were on the road _by yourself_?"

"Of course. Who could have come with me?"

Nico scoffed, but he smiled as he did. "That was stupid."

"Yeah, it was. But I had my prince to save me," Will said, smirking at Jason.

Jason chose that moment to wake up. "Told you not to call me that," he mumbled.

Will rushed by his side—to make sure he remained lying, this time. "Are you okay?" Just as they'd feared, his right eye was completely black now, and his left eye was starting to show a slice of blackness as well.

Jason smiled. "It wasn't as bad as last time."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Nico asked, and Will shrugged at him. "Yeah, of course, we don't know. Never mind."

"We should get back to the city," Jason said. "Who knows what the ghost will have done there by now?"

Will glanced at Nico, but his attention was entirely focused on Jason. "You need to rest, Jason," Nico said. "I've made you go through enough."

"You haven't _made_ me do anything," Jason said, shrugging Will off as he sat up. "I'm here of my own free will. And it's been worth it, so far."

Nico's mouth parted slightly open, and there was something about the look he exchanged with Jason that put Will on edge.

"Is the city really our best shot?" he asked. "Isn't there anyone else who could help us?"

Nico started, and turned to him. "I—I don't know. I've never heard of anyone."

"Me neither," Jason said. "Besides, your people will need reassurance from their king."

"Assuming they don't want me dead first," Nico said, bitter.

"Then we'll just have to protect you." Will felt almost silly saying the words, when Jason was the one who could fight. But Nico's look was a grateful one.

"All right," he finally said. "Do you think you can walk, Jason? We should leave as soon as possible."

"Yes. If Will would let go of me, that is." Jason glanced at Will with a grin, who realized he'd been holding him down the whole time. Startled, he let go, giving Jason room to sit up and get out of bed. He stretched briefly, apparently unaware of Nico's gaze on him. Not that Will could blame Nico for staring: even with his suit and hair ruined with dirt and traced of blood, he was still a sight to behold as the cloth pulled taut over his muscles.

Jason's voice snapped him out of his contemplation. "We should grab some food for the journey back."

"We'll be right there to help you," Nico said as Jason reached the door. Will glanced at him, curious, but the implication was obvious enough, and Jason left them alone in the bedroom.

"What is it?"

"I—Maybe it's stupid."

"Spit it out, Nico."

"You didn't say anything about—about kissing me."

Will felt his own breath catching. "I'm not sure what to say."

"I mean, I know it didn't mean anything, but—"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

Nico froze. "We were just kids."

"I don't remember that day, but—" Will felt the words slipped from him; he paused, breathed in deep, gathering up his courage. "But I remember _wanting_ to kiss you. Just because I was eight doesn't mean I didn't know what I was doing."

Silence hung between them, the air tense with what Will had said.

"Will, I can't—"

"I'm not asking for anything. I—honestly, I don't even know how I feel right now." That was almost a lie: he hadn't taken time to process it, but he was pretty sure he knew how he felt. "But I wanted you to know that."

Nico sighed. "Okay. Well, now I know." He briefly paused, then hurriedly added, "But…I can't touch anyone without killing them."

Will shrugged. "I touched you earlier, and I'm fine. Maybe you're overthinking this."

Nico's lips curved slightly, reluctantly, into a smile, but it was enough for now.

* * *

Soon, they were ready to leave, Will's backpacks and Jason's saddle bags full of what they could find in the mausoleum's stores, and they left into the desert. Night had fallen, and the air was nearly freezing. Will and Jason were dressed for it, but all Nico had was the ceremonial suit he'd worn for the coronation—as well as his cape, which Will had recovered from the bedroom before leaving—and he shivered with every step, all while refusing any help. And Jason's horse couldn't support all three of them, forcing them to progress at a painfully slow pace.

Will had also taken Nico's crown, securely hidden in his backpack. He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't given it back to Nico immediately, but he doubted that Nico had just _forgotten_ it on the night stand. Whatever Nico's motives were, Will had decided to keep it until he was sure Nico was comfortable taking it back.

They were barely out of Tartarus Valley, finally getting somewhat warmer, when they stumbled upon their first ghosts. Just like the ones that had attacked Will and Jason the day before, these headed straight for them…but when they were almost close enough to leap at them, they suddenly froze in place.

Will exchanged a confused look with Jason, before turning to Nico. From his fingertips, strands of darkness, visible even against the night's obscurity, had emerged, reaching for the ghosts. The tendrils coiled around them, and moments later, the ghosts were gone.

They stood in stunned silence for a moment. Then, finally, Nico spoke up. "I didn't know I could do that."

"Well, at least now we know you can help with the ghosts," Will said.

"But what if I can't do it again? It just— _happened_."

Will readied himself to dismiss his worries, but Jason's stumbling step took his attention away. "Jason? Are you all right?" His hand was clasped over his right eye, Will noticed, and he walked to him.

"I'm fine. It's nothing compared to the other times."

"Jason, let me see."

Jason removed his hand, and Will was almost reassured to see a single drop of blood, slowly running down his face like a red tear. _Almost_.

"It keeps happening when I use my abilities," Nico said.

"In any case, we couldn't let these ghosts slow us," Jason said. "I'll be fine, I swear."

"You won't," Will pointed out. He hated having to say that in front of Nico, who blamed himself enough as it was, but he couldn't ignore the problem any longer. "Jason, if we keep this up, you'll—"

"I know." Jason had spoken in a hushed voice, and Will wasn't sure Nico had heard him. "But we must keep going. This is more important."

"Maybe you should stay away from Nico. We can get back to the city together. If you're not so close to him, maybe it would slow—"

"I can't. He'll think I gave up on him." Nico would, and Will knew it. That Jason understood that, though…that was more surprising. "I won't leave."

Will sighed. "I understand."

"Do you?"

"I'd do the same for him."

"Are you going to keep whispering to each other for a long time?" Nico's voice startled Will, and Jason looked visibly shaken as well.

"We should keep going," Jason said. "It's really nothing. See? It's already stopped." The bleeding had, but when Will stared into Jason's eyes, he was certain the black in his left eye had spread even further, though it was hard to say in the dark.

* * *

The journey back to the city was slow, and mostly uneventful after that. Ghosts approached, Nico banished them—and still had no idea how he did it—and Jason hid his bleeding as best he could. Will wasn't fooled; he knew it happened every time.

Once, he even noticed Jason stumbling and wiping at his eyes, even though no ghost was around and Nico hadn't done anything. That time made Will wonder if he'd even survive all the way to the city, let alone long enough for them to find a cure for him.

The sun had risen and was setting again by the time they came in view of the royal palace's highest towers. "We made it," Nico let out, a hopeful note in his voice, for the first time since Will had come across him before the coronation feast.

"We did," he said. "Everything will be fine, you'll see. You'll get rid of the ghosts, and they'll understand you didn't mean to do any of this."

He couldn't help but steal a glance at Jason. Will remembered the city crawling with ghosts. If Jason's condition got worse whenever Nico used his powers, what would happen to him when Nico banished them all?

Jason met his gaze, and, strangely, he nodded with an encouraging smile. Maybe he knew what Will was thinking. Maybe—

"Well, Your Majesty, that's certainly not what I'd planned for."

Will started at the unknown voice, and turned to find Nico petrified, a ghost hovering right in front of him.

"Minos?" Nico said. "What do you mean? What are you even _doing_ here?"

"You were not supposed to leave your hiding." The ghost was _definitely_ speaking. "Not so soon, at least."

"'Supposed' to—?"

Jason stepped between Nico and the ghost, sword raised. "Are you responsible for all this?"

The ghost considered Jason silently. "You don't have much longer to live."

"Answer my question." Jason's voice didn't even waver.

"Why not? That is what I came for." There was a rasping sound, which Will suddenly realized was the ghost laughing. "Didn't you ever wonder why you had suddenly lost control of your abilities, Ghost King?" The moniker held unveiled sarcasm.

"I was upset, and—"

"Upset? Do you think you spent eight years of your life without ever being upset? It triggered it, but it wasn't the cause. That would be me. You innocently called on us shades, using us as toys. I observed you, and when the door opened for me, I was ready. I took something with me, from the Underworld. They call it an infernal pomegranate."

A pomegranate. As if on cue, Will could almost taste it on his lips, bringing with it a flood of memories. A sunny afternoon, a cute boy with dark hair who had been Will's best friend for their entire life. Whom Will boasted to his mom would be much more when Will was older, bringing a laugh to her lips and a worried sparkle in her eyes that Will didn't notice.

Nico had asked Will if he could keep a secret, and called one of his ghosts for him. Will had been scared, but only for a moment, because if Nico wasn't scared, there was no reason to be scared, right? The ghosts vanished soon, leaving behind a fruit—a pomegranate, Nico's secret favorite. Will had said he could have it, and Nico had.

When Will had seen the smile on his friend's lips, he hadn't been able to resist leaning in for a kiss. Hadn't wanted to. There was some juice left on Nico's lips, but Will hadn't cared, because Nico was suddenly kissing him back—as much as eight-year-olds can kiss back.

When he'd opened his eyes, it was like the sun had vanished, even though he could see it in the sky. The entire garden was plunged in darkness, and Bianca was rushing in to help her brother get his powers under control.

Will gasped under the memory influx. He felt like he'd just relived that entire afternoon, yet when Minos spoke again, Will hadn't missed a word. "Its poison is subtle. The one who consumes it becomes immune, and is unaffected. To most people, it would be no more than a delicacy. But to those like you, who bear magic, the fruit's corruption takes root immediately. They lose control of their ability, and whenever they do, the poison spreads to other—in a much deadlier form. Your dashing prince is an example of that."

Stunned silence met Minos's words. Jason stood still, sword still raised, but in his very hesitation Will could guess that he wouldn't strike at the ghost.

Nico, on the other hand, looked about to collapse. "But—why?"

"So you would do what you have just done. Bring my kind here—not temporarily, for your enjoyment, but for good. My army spread in your city, and your people know by now what happens to those who would rise against us. They _cannot_ fight us."

"You ruined Nico's life so you could rule over Hades?" Will erupted.

"I founded it. It is my kingdom by right. You inherited this kingdom from me, Ghost King, as you did your gift. It is only right that the latter would serve to return the former to me."

Nico stared at him silently. "I would never have killed anyone if it wasn't for that…poison? If it wasn't for you?" His breathing shortened, and he took a step forward, standing by Jason's side. "It's your fault Bianca's dead. Your fault I lost Will. Your fault Jason is—"

He raised a hand, and tendrils of darkness flew out towards Minos, but the ghost simply shrugged them off. "Fool. You can't control it. You may have banished a few weaklings in self-defense, but it'll take more than that to take me down." Still, Nico didn't budge, and more power flowed from him, no longer tendrils but a pure wave of it, unyieldingly pushing Minos back.

The ghost laughed again. "Such a waste of talent. But I have a kingdom to rule. Good bye." There was a nervousness to his voice, and when Minos vanished, Will wondered if he hadn't done so out of fear. But he had no time to worry about that: Jason's sword clattered to the ground as he fell to his knees.

"Jason!" Nico's voice joined Will's as he ran over to him and kneeled beside Jason.

"It's okay—" Jason's voice was weak as he protested.

"Stop it," Will said. "You're not okay."

"We can't stop for me. Minos just said—" His voice died in his throat.

"He took over the entire city," Nico completed, looking at the palace towers in the distance. "But I can't let you die."

"To save everyone else? You have to, Nico. It's the sort of decision a king _has_ to make."

"Then I don't want to be their king. I'd rather let Minos rule—"

"Stop. Don't say that. Don't say—" His voice drifted off, and it took Will a moment to realize he'd lost consciousness.

"We don't have to let anyone die," Will finally said. "Nico, you said you could travel using shadows, right? Is it dark enough for you to return to the city now?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then go. Take care of the ghosts and Minos. I'll take care of Jason. Maybe the distance will give him some more time, and we can figure out how to fight this—this poison."

"But I still can't control anything—"

"You banished all these ghosts so far. I don't think you're as powerless as you think you are. I think Minos is trying to mess with you on purpose. Why else would he tell you everything now?" Nico didn't protest, and Will stood up and took his hands. "I believe you can do it."

"Will, what are you—"

"We kissed right after you ate the pomegranate. Didn't you listen to what Minos said? Anyone who eats it is immune. I think that applies to getting some of the juice on someone's lips."

He smiled, but Nico's puzzled look didn't waver. "You remember?"

Will shrugged. "Apparently. Look, we can figure all this out later. You have some control over your powers, that much is undeniable. Look what you did against Minos just now! He had to run with his tail between his legs!" His enthusiasm finally got a smile out of Nico. "We'll join you as soon as we can. I promise."

Nico sighed deeply, then, finally, he nodded. "Please…don't lose him."

Will felt his heart tighten just a little at Nico's words, but he nodded too. "I won't."

Nico took a step back, and Will let go of his hands. A moment later, he vanished, turning into shadows himself, then fading out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

"So you remember it all?"

Will started when he heard Jason's voice. He could have laughed at Will's horrified gasp, but even that required more energy than he could manage.

"I thought you were—"

"Knocked out? I was. I just recovered quickly. Unfortunately."

Will crouched next to him. "How do you feel?"

"I'm dying. Let's not kid ourselves." Since Nico's last stunt against Minos, there was a constant pulsing in his head, right behind his eyes, and he wouldn't be surprised if he was bleeding constantly. He could barely open his eyes or raise his hand to check, though. "You didn't answer my question."

"I do remember. I don't know why—Minos mentioned the pomegranate, and it all came back to me."

"Maybe it's because the pomegranate is magic?"

Will remained silent for a moment. "We'll go with that."

"Don't sass the dying man, Will. It's not nice." He sighed. "You shouldn't have promised him to keep me alive."

"You shouldn't have stayed with us for so long when you knew it was making things worse," Will retorted. "We need to stop the bleeding. Do you have any more cloth I could use?"

"Just tear my shirt off."

Will let out a surprised exclamation, but he didn't protest. Jason felt Will's hand on his stomach, prying the vest of his suit open, tugging his shirt out of his trousers. The contact was strangely intimate, in a way that made Jason's heart quicken and made him wonder if he was getting delirious. There was a tearing sound, and the delicate contact of Will's hand on his face, with the soft fabric between their skins.

"Things were getting worse even before we reached Nico," Jason said while Will pressed against his face. "Leaving wouldn't have helped."

Will didn't respond. "I think it'll be best to make you a bandage, in case it starts bleeding again." He tore more of Jason's shirt off, forcing Jason to arch his back to get fabric from the back of it.

"I'll be blinded."

"You haven't opened your eyes yet. I don't think that's much of an issue."

Jason chuckled—and immediately winced in pain. "Touché. So you'll help me walk?"

Will tied the cloth around Jason's head. "Of course."

"Will, don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't bother."

"I won't leave you here to die!"

"Then stay with me until I do. I'm guessing it won't be long now." Will remained almost silent, but Jason could hear him sobbing. Blindly, he reached for Will, and found his hand. "About Nico…you can make him happy."

"Jason, I—"

"We can be honest, right? I saw the way you looked at us, last night—you were jealous. That means you know how I feel about him, and you feel the same way. But you're immune to the poison, and I'm dying. That gives you a major advantage."

A drop of liquid fell on Jason's face, and he realized Will was crying. "You don't know how he feels, though."

"I know what he said about you kissing him. That he wouldn't call it 'unwanted advances'. I think it's pretty obvious."

"You're wrong. Have you seen how he looks at you? You're the perfect prince, of course he's fallen for you."

Jason felt a vague sense of amusement at their argument. Weren't they supposed to fight for Nico? "Maybe he's fallen for both of us. My point still stands. I'm dying, you're immune. Just—make him happy."

Will didn't talk for a moment, but Jason could still hear him crying. Eventually, he fell completely silent. "I'm not letting you die, Jason. Come on—I'll bring you to my master. If anyone can heal you, he can."

Jason didn't argue. Truth be told, he didn't _want_ to die, and waiting for it to happen wasn't particularly pleasant. If Will had agreed to go and help Nico, he would have accepted it. But it looked like Will wasn't going anywhere. "Take my sword, first. And my sword belt."

He blushed when Will's fingers undid his belt, and felt silly for it. They'd just confessed to liking the same boy—it really wasn't the right time for his body to start imagining things.

By ear, he followed as Will put the belt on, the sheathed Jason's sword in it. "I'll help you up now," he said, sliding an arm under Jason's back.

It took some time for Jason to get used to keeping his balance with his eyes closed and the bandage hiding any trace of brightness left in the twilight, but with Will's help, he managed it. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

Jason had no idea how much time had passed when they reached the city, but he was sure it was more than should have been necessary.

He didn't need Will's warning to let him know they were inside the city: the bustling sounds of activity were enough for him to know it. And yet, Will seemed tense next to him.

"How many ghosts?" Jason asked in a low voice.

"Not as many as I feared," Will whispered back. "There are a still a few around, but it doesn't look like an invasion. We should still lay low. Maybe the rest of the ghosts are with Minos."

His tone was nervous, but Jason was impressed by how steady Will's pace was. A single magical sword wouldn't do much to help if there really was an army, even if Jason had been able to use it himself.

Jason only had the vaguest idea of the city's layout, not enough to guess were exactly they were, but he was fairly sure they were heading uphill, towards the small palace—the court's residence ever since the royal palace gates had been shut. He vaguely remembered wondering what had led the kingdom to take such a drastic measure when he'd first arrived. So much had changed in only a couple of days, Jason could hardly believe it.

"We're here," Will finally announced. "Can you stand on your own for a moment?"

Jason nodded, and Will's supporting arm vanished from around Jason's waist, followed by the sound of a heavy door pushed open. Then, a hand clasped around Jason's, leading him inside. "Master Apollo, this is Prince Jason. He needs your help."

A teasing voice replied. "If I'd known it was possible to get my hands on a prince at that feast, I'd have gone in person!"

"Master!" Will sounded almost horrified; and yet, Jason felt Will's pulse quicken against his palm. "This is serious. He's been poisoned with—"

"Infernal pomegranate," Jason completed. The myth was familiar to him, but he'd never expected to be on the receiving end of it. That story had ended up with a maiden trapped in the Underworld, and forced to marry into being the Queen of the Underworld. If Minos was the king of the ghosts, though, Jason hoped he'd have other options than to marry _him_.

There was a moment of silence. "May I see?" Apollo's voice was devoid of sarcasm, now.

Jason felt hands—Will's hands, he was sure of it—work the knot of his bandage to untie it. As the cloth fell from his face, there was suddenly light over Jason's eyelids, making him wince.

"There's so much blood." Will's voice, anxious. Jason hadn't even noticed he was bleeding—the pain in his eyes was constant now.

"Can you open your eyes?" Apollo asked.

Jason nodded. He braced himself, and cracked his eyes open. Brightness flooded in, sending searing pain up his skull. He hissed, but he struggled to keep his eyes open.

His sight focused on Apollo, looking like a rugged, older version of Will. And yet…not quite. There was a stormy air to him, and aggressiveness that even his curiosity couldn't hide, that Jason had never seen in Will.

"It's almost both of them," Will said, softly. "What happens when they turn fully black?"

"Death," Apollo said, gravely.

"You're a very reassuring physician, Master Apollo," Jason said. "Do you have any good news?"

"No one has ever even _seen_ an infernal pomegranate, let alone seen the effects of its poison. It is said that the only way to die from it is through someone else's magic." Apollo fell silent, briefly. "I take it this is related to the…events at the coronation?"

Jason nodded dryly. "So you don't know how to cure me, is what you're telling me?" He couldn't help but feel a surge of disappointment. He'd briefly believed Will, when he'd said Apollo could fix him.

"I don't know that there _is_ a cure. But we're talking about magic, here—this isn't my field of expertise."

"Is there an expert on magic, then?" Will asked. He still sounded hopeful; either he hadn't caught his master's tone, or he was purposefully ignoring it.

"I only know one, and she lives at the court of Olympus. I doubt you'd reach her in time."

Jason couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. "So the one key to my salvation is held out of reach by my father. Story of my life."

"There has to be _something_ we can do," Will insisted, shaking his head.

"There is."

The voice was a new one—a little girl's, coming from behind Jason. When Will looked past him at the source of it, his face froze and his eyes widened, almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

Jason turned, and sure enough, fell face-to-face with a ghost. He'd seen her before, right after Nico had vanished in the palace's courtyard, on the night of the coronation. She'd barely had a human shape then, but now looked almost like a regular person, safe for the cloudy texture of her skin and her inner glow, marking her as a ghost.

"Bianca?" Jason hadn't needed Will to say her name to identify her. Nico's sister shared many features with him. Same fluffy hair; same thin nose; same intense, dark eyes; same posture, hopeful and scared, as if she wanted to reach out but was afraid to. Even though he was a dozen years older than her now, they were unmistakably related.

"I tried to talk to you at the coronation, but ghosts need time to solidify and talk, and you were gone when I did." Bianca's voice was stronger than Jason had expected, more authoritative. In that too, she reminded him of Nico. "When I saw Nico come back, I thought you would be here soon too."

"Nico! How is he?" Jason asked.

"One thing at a time. You can neutralize the infernal pomegranate's poison with the simplest, most potent of all magical cures. True love."

Apollo snickered behind them, but Jason ignored him. "True love?"

She nodded. "An act of true love, to be exact. Someone else's love—a kiss, for instance—will freeze it for a while, buy you time. Your own love for someone will purge it completely, undo its effects."

Jason nodded. "All right. What about Nico, then?"

"He's at the palace. He's all right—but he needs both your help to control his power. True love reduces the effect of the pomegranate in him, too."

There was something odd in being told by this little girl about true love, but Jason shook the feeling off. "All right. We should head to the palace, then? Is that what you're saying?"

"You won't make it that far," Bianca said, her voice wavering. She glanced back, anxious. "I don't have long. One more thing. Nico can only be freed from the pomegranate's poison if someone else takes it from him. But—that person will die from it." She paused. "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful. Will, tell Nico I'm sorry I didn't come talk to him."

Beside Jason, Will nodded. "Bianca, wait!" But the girl's ghost had already faded away. "What do we do now?" Will asked to the empty air where she'd once stood.

"We go to the palace," Jason said. "We help Nico."

Will turned to him, and Jason noticed tears in his eyes. "You heard her. You won't make it." He sighed. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't insisted that Nico went off on his own, he could have—"

Jason grabbed Will's collar, and pulled him against him, crashing their lips together. He lost balance under Will's sudden momentum, and landed hard against the wall behind him, but he held on to Will, kissing him, slowly, almost carefully. Jason could hear his own heartbeat raging in his ears, and for a moment, Will was immobile, and Jason feared he'd been wrong. Then, finally, Will's hands found their way to Jason's shoulder, and he pressed closer, finally kissing back.

Jason wasn't sure what he'd expected, really. Maybe some bright lights, or for the entire world to feel like it had shifted, or for the body to feel on fire. None of that happened: it was just the same as the other people Jason had kissed in the past. And yet—not quite. There was an ardor here, there was a sense of _right_ in the way they fit against each other, that Jason had never felt before.

Most importantly, the very moment Will had kissed him back, the pain in Jason's skull had faded away. The withdrawal alone filled his body with euphoria.

Will was the one who broke it off, as out of breath as Jason was, looking confused and strangely hurt. "What—"

"It was just a hunch," Jason said, grinning.

"But you love Nico."

"As do you."

"But—"

"But it doesn't mean I can't feel something for you, too."

Will looked down, glancing at Jason's lips, at his hand still clutching Will's collar, at his own hands on Jason's shoulders. "Yeah, I guess not." He looked back up to meet Jason's eyes. "They're still black, you know."

Jason nodded. "I figured. She said it'd freeze it, though. Now we can get to the palace and help Nico."

"Jason—"

He forced himself to let go of Will, and move to the door. "We should go. I don't know how long it'll last."

"Jason! You could cure yourself right now."

"Really? If you can think of an act of true love, I'm all ears." Will remained silent, as he'd expected—he couldn't think of anything either. "Nico needs us. He's my priority."

"So—you're just going to kiss me, decide we're in love, and we're not going to talk about it?"

Jason shrugged. "We'll have all the time we need to talk if I survive through the night. Are you coming?"


	7. Chapter 7

Nico hadn't realized how much calmer he'd felt with Will and Jason until he was alone. Although, maybe the ghosts swarming the city were not helping with feeling calm.

How many people— _his_ people—had they killed to be so quickly accepted as the new masters? Nico couldn't see any corpse, but it only meant they'd cleaned up. The traces of blood and death, however, lingered, in visible stains and in the feelings Nico got at the edge of his senses. He'd almost never used his powers that way, but he still remembered _knowing_ that Bianca was dead before she'd even completely stopped moving, and remembered sensing her trace in the air afterwards. It was just one person, then, and he could block it out easily; now, though, it was overwhelming and omnipresent.

He'd considered appearing directly in the palace, and going after Minos first. Nico didn't know much about military strategy, but going straight for the leader sounded like a good plan. And yet, that also meant leaving his people defenseless. Surely, as a king, it was his duty to protect them first, wasn't it?

So he materialized outside of a narrow alley, on the opposite side of town from the palace. Ghosts scattered immediately upon Nico's arrival, with an anxious look to them. With the cleared area around him, a few passersby noticed his presence.

"It's the King!" one old woman said.

Upon hearing her, a few others recoiled in shock. "Isn't he the one who called the ghosts?"

Nico wanted to protest, but…well, he _was_. All he could do now was make up for that mistake. Or try to, anyway.

Two of the onlookers detached themselves from the crowd, walking menacingly towards Nico. They weren't what Nico focused on, however: behind them, some of the ghosts were coming closer. It took a moment for him to realize they were targeting Nico's assailants.

He ran towards the men, taking them by surprise just enough to duck under their clumsy punches, and he stepped in between them and the ghosts. He held his hands out, praying for his powers to work.

For a split moment, nothing happened; then power rushed out, piercing the ghosts mercilessly, and ricocheting further, towards a clutter of them who were gathered down the street. Nico stared as they vanished, one by one, until finally, they were all gone. His burst of energy faded with the last of them, disappearing harmlessly.

It took him a moment to realize that people were staring at him, but their surprise and wariness were now mixed with a hint of admiration. Not in all of them—the men who had nearly attacked him looked like they still might at any moment—but some of them. That was something new for Nico.

"I—" he started, unsure what to say.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." It was the old lady who had recognized him.

He couldn't help but smile at her. "I'm doing the best I can."

* * *

It took him hours, going through the streets of the city and cleansing them. Will had been right: he had some control over his powers, and the more he used them, the more confident he grew. But Minos had also been right: sometimes, it was like it was all slipping out of his hands.

It happened randomly, without warning, so Nico kept his use of his power to a minimum, and kept a safe distance between him and the citizens he came across. Most of the time, slipping meant a few more ghosts formed, but Nico could send them back as soon as he wrestled his power back under control.

It wasn't always that simple. One time, the energy bounced out of control, tearing through the stones, bricks, and wood of the nearby buildings as if they were nothing, making entire walls crumble and trapping people inside, or even under them. Another, all the plants as far as Nico could see—flowers on balconies, gardens, a few trees on a nearby plaza—died at once, and the people in that radius fell down, alive but unconscious.

And yet, he was mostly met with gratitude. Even when he walked away without being unable to help, because helping meant touching people, and that meant risking to poison them as he had Jason, he attracted confused stares, not angry ones. At least, not as far as Nico could see.

He doubted he found every ghost in the city: the more Nico progressed, the more they hid from him. Still, when he reached the royal palace, he turned back, and found the city plunged in the dark, when it had radiated in ghostly glow before. He'd made a difference, and that was important. That was good enough. At least, he hoped so.

* * *

Nico wasn't even sure that Minos was in the palace; he only assumed he was, what with his desire to be king of Hades once more. That thought—that Minos was his ancestor, that Nico had inherited this power from him—made him shiver.

But not as much as Minos poisoning him. Bianca's death, and all the years of solitude that had followed were his fault. As was the way his father used to look at him afterwards—like he would have traded Nico for another heir in a moment. Nico losing Will was Minos's fault; and Jason, dying outside of the city, that was his fault too.

His steps rang on the palace's floor, as Nico's anger bloomed and his pace quickened. There was no living being inside, only ghosts; and as Nico walked past them, they blew off into smoke, like all those candles Nico's powers had smothered over the years.

He didn't bother cleaning up the whole castle; he went straight to the throne room, all the way to the back of the palace from the entrance. It was designed to be the last refuge in case of a siege: vast, to shelter many people if needed, but with a low ceiling in case it was attacked in winter, slightly curved to help evacuate smoke through a ventilation system if the regular chimneys were blocked. There was only one entrance, but many hidden exits through hidden doors that could only be opened from inside.

When Nico came in, however, none of that was apparent. The room was empty, and unlit, safe for the cold glow emanating from the figure on the throne. Minos was lounging, a smirk on his lips, as if to accentuate his disrespect to Nico.

"You made quite a fuss among my kind, Ghost King."

"Stop calling me that," Nico said as he walked up to the throne. "If anyone here is a king of ghosts, it's you, isn't it?"

"Such sarcasm. You should show me respect."

"For what? Everything you took from me?"

"Let's say…the disappointment I spared you when you lost it all anyway. Why do you think you never heard my name, even though I founded this country?"

"I just assumed you were lying, actually." At least, Nico should have assumed that. He hadn't, though—he hadn't even considered it. "Trying to claim someone else's victory. It sounds like something you would do."

"I did no such thing!" Minos's anger was enough to make Nico pause. Nothing had changed in the throne room, but to the sensations tied to Nico's power, it was like Minos had suddenly grown to twice his regular size. " _I_ founded Hades! My abilities allowed my kingdom to harness the magic of our rivers, to slay the beasts that plagued our lands, and to grow to the most powerful nation in existence! But when they found out I didn't just control shadows—when they saw me meeting my wife's ghost—they branded me a necromancer. My own sister, and my wife's son, they decided I was a _monster_. As they will call _you_ , now. Unless they strip your name from history, and only remember you as another creature, brought down for the good of the kingdom."

Nico considered him silently even after Minos's rant stopped echoing in the throne room. "They called you a monster, and you prove them wrong by poisoning a child and killing…who knows how many people? They're _your_ people, as much as they're mine."

"I took my revenge."

"I think you really were a monster. Maybe you don't even realize it yourself."

"We'll see what you say when they fear you too."

Nico couldn't help but pause and consider his words briefly. But he remembered Will, and Jason, and the people in the city as he helped them. "You're wrong. They only feared me because of _your_ poison. If you hope to rally me to your side, give it up already. It's not going to happen."

"Then what do you intend to do? Banish me?"

"That's the idea." Nico raised his hands, letting the now familiar rush of power rise in him, and threw it all at Minos. Shadows spread out, only visible against Minos's glow, lashing out at him. But once again, to no effect.

Minos cackled, but Nico ignored him. He pushed himself further, called upon more of the power. Wave upon wave of darkness rolled from him, until finally, one of them pushed him against the back of the throne. He then slipped to the ground, his glow wavering, but still laughing.

Then Nico's control slipped, and the room imploded. The force of it made Nico fall to his knees, crashing against the walls and sending chunks of it flying outwards. The door was blasted open, and the low ceiling began to crack, rubble falling all over the room.

The throne room suddenly lit up, and it took Nico a moment to understand through his daze that these were ghosts. A myriad of them, newly-formed and incorporeal, were crammed into the previously empty room.

"See?" Minos said. "You can't banish me. I can counter you long enough for the poison to undermine you. And whenever it does, you bring me more soldiers!"

His tone was confident, but Nico noticed he sounded exhausted, too. In all likelihood, Minos wouldn't be able to resist him again—unfortunately, Nico needed to recover too. He even struggled just to get back on his feet.

"Give it up. I'll keep you, as my descendent and necromancer. You'll have a good life. With us, you won't ever risk to harm anyone."

Briefly, very briefly, Nico considered his offer. If he was only surrounded by ghosts, he _would_ never harm anyone. Then Will's words before they parted came back to him. _'Anyone who eats it is immune. I think that applies to getting some of the juice on someone's lips.'_ Will was immune.

Nico chuckled. How could he ever forgive himself if he made such a stupid, selfish decision? For Minos, of all people? "I think it's a little late to offer me a good life."

"Nico!"

Startled, Nico turned to find Will and Jason, standing on the edge of the throne room, walking over the broken remnants of the doors. Before he could properly think about it, Nico ran towards them—and paused inches before he reached Jason. His eyes were nearly black, but he didn't look in pain anymore. Flushed, but not in pain.

"What are you doing here?"

"We're here to help you," Will said. "What do you think?"

Nico felt his enthusiasm fade away. "I can't stop Minos. Every time I try, I lose control."

Will's hands fell on his shoulders. "We heard people talking about what you did while we were coming to the palace. Don't lose hope." And then, just like that, he pulled Nico towards him, and kissed him. It was brief—barely enough to register—but when he let Nico go, there was a glint in his eye. "We'll have to talk," Will added. "Later."

Nico nodded, frowning. "You shouldn't be here, Jason. You could—"

"We figured out a temporary solution. Come on, let's take care of that ghost king."

Nico chuckled, and turned back to face Minos. The ghost had walked halfway across the throne room, and was considering them with an amused smirk. "And what do _you_ intend to do, exactly?"

Will's hand found its way to Nico's, who looked back at him. "I hope you have a better plan than to see me try over and over again. I'm not risking that, especially with Jason there. It'd be dangerous enough for you two even if he wasn't poisoned." He waved at the broken doors behind them.

"That was you?" Will teased.

"I'm serious, Will."

"I have a plan," Jason said. "Two, actually. But we'll start with one." He walked up to Will, taking his sword from the scabbard hanging from Will's belt—causing Nico to frown in confusion.

"You sure you can handle it?" Will asked in a low voice.

Jason simply nodded, and walked towards Minos.

"You want to challenge me to a duel?" The king didn't sound worried in the slightest.

"Why not? Are you scared?"

Minos didn't reply; he just leaped at Jason, jumping across most of the room at incredible speed. Jason was ready, though: he rolled on the floor, recovering with perfect timing to slash at Minos. Hissing, the ghost stepped out of reach, glowing smoke coming out of the gash.

"A magic sword? Is that your best bet?"

Jason ignored his taunt, and moved forward, feinting once before thrusting at Minos, piercing the the ghost through the arm. Minos roared, grabbing Jason's wrist and twisting it violently. Howling, Jason let go of his sword.

Nico felt paralyzed, but Will ran, as Minos reached for Jason's face. Jason tried to cover it with his arms, only to have the ghost pull them away with a loud and terrible snap. Jason finally collapsed to his knees, only to scream again when Minos's hand came in contact with his eyes.

"Is that the best you've got?"

As he spoke, Will reached them, grabbed the sword and slashed at Minos. The blade went through the ghost's chest, almost all the way from his left shoulder to his right hip; he only avoided being severed in two by throwing himself to the ground, and crawling away, towards the throne. Even wounded so badly, he moved too fast to keep up with him.

Will didn't try, though; he fell to his knees, grabbing Jason's head in his hands. His eyes were bleeding profusely, but Will didn't seem to mind the blood on his hands. "Jason!" he called out, only getting a whimper in response. Then, right there, he kissed Jason. It was brief, but his tears made Nico realize that it _meant_ something.

Strangely, curiosity about that gesture was what brought Nico out of his torpor, and he walked to them. Will looked up to Nico, but it was Jason who spoke. "Help me up," he said. Will stared at him, but when Jason wrapped an arm around Will's shoulders, he nodded, and lifted both of them up.

"First plan didn't work," Jason said, weakly, his voice rushed. "Time for the second plan. You said you couldn't banish him because you lost control? I can help with that."

He tore himself from Will's embrace, taking a step towards Nico. He stumbled, and Nico caught him in his arms before he fell, reacting on instinct, forgetting that his touch would only make things worse.

"I can take the poison away," Jason said. Before Nico could ask what he meant, Jason's lips were on his. He was weak, but determined, unrelenting as Nico's shocked brain processed the information and reflexively resisted him. Jason's hands clutched the back of Nico's shirt under his cape, his tongue caressed at Nico's lips, and he gave in, parting his lips to let him in.

In that moment, Nico forgot everything—Minos, the ghosts, his powers, even that Jason was dying. He felt like he was being obliterated by this one kiss, drained by it, drowned by it.

And then, way too quickly, it ended. Jason pulled away, tears mixing with the blood coming from his eyes. Before Nico could ask him why he was crying, he fell in Nico's arms again—but this time, he was dead weight.

At the edge of his senses, Nico felt it, felt the shadow of Jason's death. But it couldn't be true. "Jason," he whispered. "Jason, wake up."

"He took the poison away." Will's voice, sounding distant to Nico's blurred mind. "And he died. Just like Bianca said."

His sister's name brought Nico back to reality. To the person responsible for her death, and now Jason's. Minos was still crawling on the floor, beneath the throne. "You!" he yelled. "You did all this! I've had _enough_!"

He held out his hand once more. Maybe a small rational part of his mind had processed Will's words. Maybe Nico didn't care anymore. His anger, his pain, took a physical form, a whirlwind of shadows. Every ghost nearby was extinguished, and with each of them, the hurricane grew, trapping more ghosts inside.

Then, when they were all gone, Nico pointed at Minos. The hurricane collapsed on itself, converging on Nico, coursing through his body, through his arm, then tearing through the air towards the ghost king. Nico lifted him in the air with his sole willpower, slammed him against the wall above the throne.

And, finally, he tore him apart.

Minos didn't vanish like the other ghosts. He didn't turn into smoke, then disappear like a blown candle. He fell to pieces, and one by one, Nico gathered them and _crushed_ them. There would be no returning to the Underworld for him. There would be nothing for him at all. Not anymore.

When nothing of what had been Minos remained, Nico felt himself fall to the ground, next to Jason's lying form.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Will would chide him for apologizing again, but it would never be _enough_. First Bianca, now Jason. Would Nico kill every person he loved?

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain. Trying to contain his tears. Neither remained at bay, however; he cried, and he screamed, because that was all he _could_ do. Will was right there, crouched behind him, but his presence couldn't help. Not for this.

"Don't be." The voice reached through to him, and Nico realized the words had been repeated several times already.

"Don't bother, Will—" he froze. That wasn't Will's voice.

He opened his eyes, and his gaze met another one. Grey-blue, like a cloudy sky.

Nico blinked rapidly. He had to be dreaming. He had to—

A hand cupped his face. Callused, with long fingers. Nothing like Will's hand. He opened his eyes again.

"Jason?"

He heard Will gasp behind him. It was Jason, looking at him with a faint smile, more visible in his eyes than on his lips.

"An act of true love neutralizes the poison," Jason said. Seeing Nico's blank stare, he added, "Your sister told me that." As if that was an explanation. He pushed himself off the floor with his free hand, never letting go of Nico, forcing him to sit up as well.

"You _knew_?" Will's voice was almost angry.

"I _hoped_. I would have done it either way. It was the only solution to rid Nico from it. I didn't want you two to be disappointed if it failed."

Nico felt tears still running down his face, but he didn't care. "I—So you're okay?"

"And so are you."

That wasn't what Nico had wanted to ask. An act of true love, he'd said. A sacrifice to free Nico from his curse. Maybe it was pointless to ask at all.

"You saved me. Both of you."

"I think you saved us, too," Will said.

His quip made Nico laugh—nervously, at first, but it spiraled out of control. It felt like forever since he'd laughed. Will and Jason joined him, and he felt ridiculous, picturing all three of them sitting in the ruined throne room, in the dark, laughing for no good reason. Ridiculous was good, he decided.

When their bout of hilarity died down, Nico stared at the two of them. Noticed the way they looked at _him_ , and at each other. Remembered that they'd both kissed him—and each other.

"So now what?"

"Well," Jason said, "Will told me about this custom in Hades, of kings taking two spouses…"

"If you'll have us," Will added.

Nico smiled. "I'd never let you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of The Ghost King. Thanks everyone for reading!
> 
> As you probably noticed, I added it to a series, because I plan on expanding this AU. I've got a few stories in mind already, the first of which being a one-shot for these three's wedding night (because, come on, it had to happen). After that, I'm not entirely sure what I'll get to first, but I have plans for one fic about Jason's backstory, one that focuses on Percy (who actually was in this story, though I don't think his name was ever mentioned), and possibly one about Hazel. So if you've liked this story, I'd greatly appreciate if you could subscribe to the series!


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